


Wishing Well

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is tired of getting left behind.and as usual, trouble ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishing Well

**Author's Note:**

> Been thinking about this idea for awhile. Takes place around the holidays, due to CURRENT time. I suppose that, if pressed for explanation, this story was inspired by 'Silence Of The Lambs'. If that kind of material squicks you, PLEASE don't read this! ALSO...timeline wise, this is post-TSbBS and Blair is a cop...but this is his first HARSH case. 

## Wishing Well

by Jvantheterrible

Of course, I always screw up and put them in the first paragraph of the story, and so, there they are again! Graphic serial killer detail.if you squick easily, please don't read this!

Thanks for reading. I started this last December, and just finished it last night. I hope you all like it. It's the longest thing I've written in a loooong time. 

* * *

Wishing Well 

Author: Jvantheterrible  
Date: December 5th, 2001 - May 15th, 2002 Rating: NC-17 for M/M relations, violence, angst, h/c, & explicit serial-killer detail. Pairing: J/B  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Petfly & Bilson/DeMeo gave them up a few years ago, and we're left to pick up the pieces. I sure do miss them. No monies made, blah blah blah. Feedback: Relished at duranjaxter@comcast.net. No flames, thanks. Not beta'd; I like to live on the edge...of MANY things <snicker>. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Friday, December 20th  
852 Prospect  
5:53 AM 

Blair Sandburg could see it all so clearly; could practically feel the cold closing in on him, could sense the impending doom that was about to befall him. He had no idea where he was exactly, just that he could see nothing around him and felt nothing but...frigid darkness. Nothing more than a dim circle of light overhead, and even that spewed dampness from the sky upon him, drip by drip. He shivered once, and then began unconsciously shaking in earnest as he took in his surroundings...it was all too real...but it couldn't be! He'd just made love to Jim hours ago in their shared bed, and his lover was still curled up next to him, was he not? Reaching out, the Guide found nothing but cold earth beneath his outstretched palms, and suddenly felt the water lapping at his bare legs; how the hell did he get here? Where was here, anyway? Submerged to his knees in filthy, reeking, freezing cold water that was slowly but steadily rising, he began to panic; couldn't even call out to Jim for help...breath coming too fast to calm down now...must...relax...must...Jim...must 

The Sentinel awoke before the 6 AM alarm even had a chance to go off; he rubbed his eyes to get the grit out, momentarily confused by the locomotive-like sound coming from underneath the covers. It was that rasping, desperate sound that had pulled him from his deep slumber moments earlier, and once he saw the covers heaving next to him, he realized that his lover was having a nightmare. Again. 'He has got to stop drinking those damned algae shakes,' Jim thought to himself as he attempted to gently jostle his Guide awake for the third time in six days. This time, though, Jim was worried; it sounded to his sensitive ears like Blair's heart was pounding frantically in his fur-covered chest. The Sentinel could smell the fear pouring off the younger man from beneath the covers, and Jim sat up and threw the flesh-warmed blue and white checkered flannel sheets back to expose Sandburg - sweating profusely, shaking like a leaf, and curled into a fetal position. 

"Jesus Christ," Ellison murmured concernedly, "Chief? C'mon babe, just a dream." The Sentinel immediately pulled the younger man up and into the waiting safety and warmth of his own strong lap and arms, "Blair? Sweetheart, come on, it's just a dream," Jim cooed softly, immediately worried when Sandburg failed to respond to his comforting embrace and whispers. 

"Cuh-cuh-cold," Sandburg muttered between chattering teeth, "Juh-juh...please...Jim, help me," the young man belted out in a strangled whisper. The night terrors had been escalating all week, and despite his best attempts at shrugging it all off, Jim was genuinely frightened at the moment. Blair had been quite insistent about writing it all off as nonsense, but this was hardly something so easily discarded. 

"Blair," Jim said with a bit more conviction, holding his Guide as closely and tightly as he could without smothering the younger man. "C'mon, this isn't funny," Jim said nervously as he gazed down at the man in his arms. Despite the warm embrace that Jim currently held Sandburg in, he watched as his lover's lips took on a bluish hue...it was only when Blair finally sputtered himself awake that Ellison heaved a huge sigh of relief and was able to stop shaking the young man's shoulders. Jim rested his chin atop the mass of sweat-soaked curls beneath it and stroked Blair's bare back gently, calming the Guide's panicked pulse and frantic shivering, trying to eradicate the goosebumps that were so prominent at the moment. 

"Jim," Blair whispered against his partner's chest, "It happened again...but this time it was...it...it was so fucking real," he rasped, still trying to catch his breath as he soaked in the larger man's body heat to calm his shivers. The Guide wrapped his arms around his Sentinel's waist in an awkward but more than welcome grasp, nestling his long curls and one side of his face between Ellison's smooth pecs, trying to burrow his way into his lover. 

"Sssshhh," Ellison whispered to his troubled lover, "It's okay, I'm here, nothing's wrong Blair, I've got you." It took several more minutes of soft kisses and reassuring pats on the back before Blair finally stopped shaking, and even then he was still cold and clammy to the touch. Jim pulled the sheets and comforter up and around them both, still clutching Blair closely to him. Several minutes later, when the young man was finally starting to warm up again, Jim spoke. 

"Blair, I think it would be a good idea if...well, if we took you off this case. I don't think you're up to dealing with it...it's pretty goddamned grisly, and I...well, shit Chief, I think it's getting to you." Jim grimaced as soon as he felt Sandburg shaking his stubborn head back and forth against his chest; the kid had absolutely insisted on being included in all of Jim's cases, no matter what activities the perps might be involved in. 

Up until now, it was mostly drug-related, or gang-related, or robbery-related, or anything-related. Anything...except a serial killer. When the alarm clock began its insistent buzzing, Jim found himself once again comforting Blair out of a whole new batch of shakes...and realized that, not for the first time since getting his badge, Sandburg just might not be cut out for this line of work. At least not on certain cases...cases like this one. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **CASCADE P. D.**  
9:34 AM 

"Ellison, Sandburg, my office," Captain Banks groused. Blair rolled his eyes a bit, not catching the concern on his partner/lover's face as he got up from his paperwork to follow the Sentinel into their boss's office. Taking their respective seats, the partners watched as Simon clenched his jaw around a fresh (and as yet unlit) stogie, pacing behind his desk nervously. "We've got another body," Simon said around the tobacco between his lips, obviously agitated over whatever communication he'd received. "This is the worst one yet," the large man continued, "I can't really explain all the details...your presence has been requested at the scene." Simon stopped pacing for a moment to gaze at the two men before him, scrutinizing Blair more than usual. 

"What?" Sandburg piped up innocently, wide-open blue eyes catching Simon's gaze before he looked to his partner; dismayed at the doubt he found in the azure eyes to his left and the chocolate-brown one coming from his boss, the young man sighed theatrically and said, "Don't even go there, you guys." 

"Sandburg, I really don't think...I mean, this is some nasty shit we're dealing with here, alright? This isn't the Chow family being robbed in their liquor store. This isn't a kidnapping, or even the usual crap that befalls the two of you," Simon continued, pointing his unlit cigar at the two men, "This is some seriously fucked up behavior." Banks paused momentarily to take in Sandburg's crestfallen features, then looked to Jim for backup. Thankfully, the Sentinel didn't disappoint his superior. 

"Blair-" was all Jim managed to get out before Sandburg was out of his chair and pacing behind their seats frantically, arms waving enthusiastically in the air as he motioned while he spoke. 

"Don't do this to me, man," Blair said, "I've been trained for this shit, okay? I'm ready. I'm a fucking anthropologist, for God's sake. I'm used to human behavior, and studying it and dissecting it and analyzing it. Stop treating me like I'm some child that needs to be handled with kid gloves, okay? Both of you," Blair said with a glare, before giving in to his Captain's glowering gaze with a murmured, "Sir," in the dark man's direction. 

"Goddammit Sandburg, this isn't Rainier, alright?" Simon barked at him, making the young Detective jump a bit, "This is not some course studying bones and tribes and fucking pygmies that live in trees! This maniac is using skin to make fucking lampshades and futon covers, alright? Are you prepared to deal with that, Sandburg? Are you?" Simon yelled. 

Jim winced and hung his head, the memory of Blair shivering in his arms that very morning all too fresh in his head. He could feel his lover's gaze burning into the back of his neck, silently begging for backup against the verbal onslaught of their Captain, and Jim felt even more ashamed when he found himself unable to provide that comfort. Blair was simply not handling this case well...and the perp was escalating in his violence. Whether it was his Blessed Protector mode kicking in or simply concern over his lover's mental and emotional well-being, James Ellison refused to let his partner succumb to the horrors of the job. Blair Sandburg had already given up more than could ever be imagined to live the life they now shared; Jim would be damned if he'd allow the young man to come into any more harm than necessary...physical or otherwise. 

Taking a deep breath, Jim shared a brief nod and agreeing look with Simon Banks before standing up and looking at his partner. His best friend. His lover. His other half. Unbeknownst to Blair, Jim had consulted with Simon after the first nightmare earlier in the week, and had already agreed to work the case with Taggert. It was time to speak up, and Jim could feel his pulse pick up in speed to match that of his nervous partner, barely finding the resolve to spit out, "I'm working this one with Taggert, Blair. You're on desk duty until further notice." Ellison closed his eyes as he heard the catch in Sandburg's throat; it was a noise that only a Sentinel could hear, and it was the most sorrowful sound he could ever recall being privvy to. It exuded hurt; genuine and heartfelt, and worse than that - Jim could practically feel the disappointment. He had sworn that he would never betray his Guide...never again...not after all that Sandburg had given up to be with him. But this was different...wasn't it? 

"I see," Blair said calmly as he stopped his pacing and regarded his Captain and his partner/best friend/lover, "Will that be all then, Captain? I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on," Sandburg said. Only Jim could sense the racing heartbeat and smell the veritable anger coming off the younger man. Blair's gaze burned a hole in Jim's heart; he knew that it was going to take one hell of a lot for his lover to forgive him. It was only the knowledge of what most surely awaited him at the crime scene that allowed the Sentinel to follow his Guide out of their Captain's office and watch as the younger man reluctantly yet gracefully took a seat behind his own desk. Blair winced a bit when he heard Joel approach Jim and ask if he was ready to roll; Jim had to swallow the lump in his throat down harshly as he allowed himself one last glance at his lover before he left the bullpen with Taggert. It was only the images of what Ellison knew awaited them at the scene that kept him walking out without his real partner. The memory of said partner shivering in his arms and crying and sweating that very morning was all too real as he headed down the elevator with Joel, prepared to face the recently-dubbed 'Cascade Monster's' newest creation. The Sentinel only wished that his final memory that morning hadn't been Blair's refusal to look at him as he walked out the doors of the bullpen with Taggert. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **UNDISCLOSED SUBURBAN LOCATION**  
10:03 AM 

"Oh Jesus H. Christ," Jim muttered as he and Taggert assessed the crime scene. The animal had most certainly been on the prowl recently; there was blood all over the furniture and soaking into the carpet of the small house in not-so-rural Cascade. Worse yet, flesh had been cut from the still unseen victim and used to cover up lamps and a chandelier in the Dining Room. The stench immdediately assaulted Jim's senses and he gasped for air like a fish out of water for several minutes until he was able to dial it all down so that he could take in the crucial details like Taggert. Unable to dab mentholatum beneath his sensitive nose, Jim closed his eyes and imagined his Guide's soothing voice so he could center himself; Joel was unable to assist in the Guide department, and Jim was not surprised. 

"Yeah," Taggert agreed as he followed the Sentinel around the house, grimacing when they found what appeared to be a human heart and kidneys still bubbling in a five-gallon pot on the stove, evidence that the perp had been around mere minutes before the arrival of the police. "Jesus, Jim, what do you think he's trying to do? It looks like...oh SHIT," Taggert muttered as he found a plate containing some unidentifiable meat and a fork next to the stove. "Oh, oh God," Joel said weakly before covering his mouth and running down the hall in search of the bathroom - in what passed for an idyllic home from the outside despite the horror contained within. 

Ellison tried to block it all out; the sounds of Joel wretching into the toilet, the scent of human organs cooking on the range, the tinge of horrified fear that permeated the air of the once-peaceful residence. Nothing that Jim did could eradicate the sense of dread and loathing that surrounded him...and still, he could see Blair's face before leaving his partner at the station that morning. Despite the fact that Ellison was thrilled Blair hadn't had to experience the crime scene, something nagged at him. Granted, it resided way back in the recesses of his primal brain, but it was there...and before long, Jim feared, that niggling feeling would turn into something altogether more tangible. 

Pushing aside his foreboding feelings, Jim headed up the hallway and called softly out to his temporary partner, "Hey, Taggert? You okay, Joel?" The Sentinel could smell where the remainder of the body rested, and prepared himself for what would most certainly be the worst vision yet. As Joel apologized from inside the bathroom, Jim walked up the hallway to where the blood trail left off...just outside a bedroom door that was barely open a crack. Bloody handprints on the jambs let Jim know that this was indeed where the rest of their victim lay, and he took a deep breath as he prepared to enter the room. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **CASCADE P. D.**  
12:53 PM 

Sandburg answered his telephone with a curt, "Cascade PD," quickly changing over to that of concerned City Officer when he heard the sobbing woman on the other end of the line. "Please," she cried whole-heartedly into the phone, "There's someone outside my patio trying to get in...the damned burglar-alert won't work," she relayed with great panic in her voice. "This...monster that's been around the city, I'm afraid...please!" She cried, screaming as the sound of glass breaking in the background brought Blair to his feet within seconds. He checked for his weapon as he pulled on his wool coat, scarf, and gloves while cradling the phone between his shoulder and his chin and prepared to head out into the field. Flurries had started again, and the radio announcer had been talking about a winter storm coming in...just in time for Christmas. 

"It's alright, ma'am, I'm on my way," Sandburg assured the lady on the other end of the connection, "Just tell me your address," Blair encouraged her, horrified when she managed to give out just her street name and house number before being cut off from the connection. "Ma'am? Hello?" Blair shouted into the phone; there were no other Detectives in the bullpen, and Simon was nowhere to be seen...the anthropologist-cum-Detective had no choice but to respond to the call on his own. With the connection dead and sans backup - the first no-no in the Cascade PD handbook - Blair thought rebelliously, 'This is my chance...I'll show Simon and Jim how I can handle a case.' 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **UNDISCLOSED RURAL LOCATION**  
2:05 PM 

He'd been driving for just over an hour - his progress slowed by the worsening weather, and Blair was concerned that he'd misread the damned address...until he happened upon it more or less by accident. 'Oh God, here it is,' he thought to himself as he headed up the driveway, not surprised when he saw a truck parked crookedly in the gravel by the front door. Using his squad car computer, Sandburg typed in the plate number and was not surprised when the vehicle came up as stolen on the system. Gathering every bit of resolve he held in his soul, Blair exited his cruiser and headed up the concrete stairs to the front door, not at all surprised when he found the heavy wood slightly ajar. 'Dammit,' he thought to himself, 'this is SO against protocol...but everyone else is out in the field.' 

Blair allowed thoughts of Jim and Joel heading out the doors together to permeate his brain, and the only feeling that resided in his head and his heart at that point was one of betrayal. This was his big chance to show the guys that he could handle an emergency, and he would be damned if he'd let some cut-rate killer cheat him out of his opportunity. 

"Hello? Ma'am?" Blair attempted nonchalantly as he strode cautiously through the house, gun drawn and ready for anything thanks to his Cascade PD training. Working so closely with Jim the last five years, he'd been able to glean...something incredibly heavy struck Sandburg forcefully in the back of the head, ceasing his inner monologue, and Blair was anything but prepared. He slumped immediately to the floor, entirely missing the evil chuckle that followed his collapse, unconscious before he hit the ground. 

"Awww, lookie," the high-pitched voice proclaimed as it mimicked a woman's tone, "He really came! He really cares! I just loooooove the Cascade PD," the dark stranger spoke as the voice fluctuated from high and feminine to low and masculine. "Are you ready, Mr. Sentinel? Mr. Cop of the Year? I've got your Guide and anything goes now," the man said to the unresponsive Sandburg at his feet - before laughing until the sound faded into a mad howl. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20TH**  
4:06 PM  
 **CASCADE PD**

Taggert and Ellison ambled back into the bullpen, both men with their heads hung; it had been an exhausting day, and a nearly futile one. The Cascade Monster was not only escalating in the level of violence and horror he wrought at his scenes, he was leaving fewer clues. The body that Jim had found in the bedroom had been that of a very obese woman...it had taken the two men and the Forensic team all day to collect all the pieces of her flesh that had been cut from her corpse and strewn about the house. They hadn't even been able to discern if the organs cooking on the stove were hers, and that would take a day or two to come back from the labs; there were still parts missing from the perp's two previous victims. Jim didn't doubt for a moment that the asshole was keeping trophies, and it wouldn't be out of the question to assume that he would transport those to the new scenes to throw off the investigation. 

The flurry of activity in the bullpen was SOP for a Friday afternoon, and it took Ellison a minute to realize that several things were out of place. First and most importantly, Blair was nowhere to be seen - that, in and of itself, was odd because he should have been at his desk. Extending his senses, Jim found no trace of the familiar heartbeat, or scent of his lover. Second, there was the fact that everyone appeared to be blatantly avoiding him; no one asked any questions about the crime scene, despite the buzz that had been going on all week about the Monster's crimes. Next, the Sentinel picked up on the whispers from the other employees. "Who's going to tell him?" Jim heard, then in reply, "Captain Banks for sure, man, there's no way I'd want to be the one," and then from across the room, "There he is...he's going to freak out. Poor guy...and this close to the holidays, too," the anonymous soft voice finished with sorrow. 

Upon seeing Jim and Joel enter the offices, Simon stepped into the doorway of his office with a lit cigar clenched between his teeth before grinding out, "Ellison, my office, pronto." Jim shook his head as though to clear all the whispers and murmurs around him before entering the Captain's office. Simon shut the door after following the Detective in and, instead of sitting behind his desk as he usually did, the larger man took the seat next to Jim - where Blair usually sat - puffing on his cigar as hard as he could and blowing the smoke away from the Sentinel. 

"Jim," Simon began, and instantly Ellison closed his eyes. His heart froze in his chest. Every fiber of his being told him what was coming, and there was no way that he could escape it. The whispers from the other detectives had pretty much told him all he needed to hear, and Simon's tones and behavior were sealing up the deal. Blair Sandburg was missing. 

"When?" Jim asked, eyes still closed, interrupting Simon's attempt to break the news gently. 

"Jesus, Ellison...we were out to lunch...the kid was here alone and the call came in, and -" Banks tried to hedge, but Jim would have none of it. 

"When?" The Sentinel asked more forcefully, and Simon just shook his head and looked down before answering, "About four hours ago, best as we can tell, Jim. The call came in at about ten 'til one, and Sandburg took off immediately after. I sent a team, but there's nothing out there, Jim...we traced the call from the phone company and the house is -" 

Ellison cut his Captain off once again, "I need the address. Please. Now." Jim fought off the nausea that rose in his stomach as the scenes from earlier in the day replayed in his head; he swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat. If only he'd just let Blair ride along as usual. If only he'd just trusted Blair's judgment. His partner's judgment, he scolded himself...Blair was his full-fledged partner now. If only he'd been able to put the nightmares aside for what Sandburg always said they were, mere 'subconscious meanderings that have nowhere else to go in the dead of night'. 'If only', Jim thought as Simon wrote down the address, 'if only'. Jim stood up and clenched his jaw as he regarded his Captain matter-of-factly, "I'm going out there, Simon. I might be able to find something they missed." 

The large black man merely nodded, the apology and sorrow overwhelming in his expression. "Jim, the weather's getting really bad and I-" and for the third and final time, Ellison interrupted, "It's okay, Simon. I'll find him." 

"I know you will Jim, I know you will," Banks replied, motioning to the door and watching the distraught Detective exit his office. As Jim shut the door behind him, Simon picked up the case files that Blair had placed on his desk earlier and slammed them angrily back down on his desk. "I'm sorry, kid," Simon said to no one as he plopped down in his chair, "Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry." 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **UNDISCLOSED RURAL LOCATION**  
5:34 PM 

Ellison glanced at the clock on the truck's dashboard; it was nearly twelve hours ago that he'd held his lover in his arms, comforting him from the demons of the night. As he pulled into the driveway of the home that Blair had responded to, he slid to a halt on the already slush-filled pavement and, ignoring the cruisers and officers that still mingled around the scene, jumped from his truck and strode purposefully towards the front door. It wasn't just the weather that gave him a chill as he walked past Blair's abandoned cruiser, pulling his coat's collar further up his neck and already distantly able to smell his Guide from within the residence. 

He flashed his Detective badge as he approached the front steps, paying no mind to the other workers. Instantly he sensed Blair; the scent was one that mingled the younger man's shampoo and soap and usual musky Blairsmell, but the strongest one that the Sentinel picked up on was - fear. Ellison could feel the small hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention as he entered the home of the Jones', who just happened to be out of town for the holidays - at least according to their answering machine. 

The black powder that usually revealed fingerprints had been dusted over the entire front entryway, as well as every surface surrounding and including every phone in the house. The Jones' were not going to be pleased when they returned from their holiday, Jim thought grimly as he winced and walked to where the scent of his Guide was the strongest, closing his eyes to concentrate on the odor and drink it in. He didn't even hear the lead investigator's voice until the woman was nearly shouting in his ear, and when he finally opened his eyes and looked at her, she jumped a bit, startled. 

"Uh, Detective Ellison?" She said timidly as she held out her petite hand, "I'm Vanessa Rice, with Forensics. Nice to meet you, Detective, I've heard a lot about you," she said conversationally with a slight smile. The Sentinel regarded her with a brief nod, then held out his hand like a robot to shake hers before releasing it a second later so that he could concentrate fully on his partner's scent. 

"We've been over this house with a fine-tooth comb Detective, and believe me, there truly isn't anything here that would lead us to believe that your partner has been harmed," Vanessa stated matter-of-factly, if not a bit nervously. Ellison glanced at her once more, taking in her small frame and blonde hair and green eyes, vaguely thinking that perhaps many years ago she would have been someone he might have pursued for a date. That would be P. B., of course, he thought to himself...Pre-Blair. Just thinking of his partner's name brought on a whole new onslaught of guilt-laden grief, and Ellison swallowed hard a few times before responding. 

"Um, thanks," Jim said with an exaggerated throat-clearing, "I appreciate your efforts, Ms. Rice. Have you found anything, anything at all? Prints of any kind? Hairs of any kind?" The Sentinel asked anxiously, praying that they might have found one - just ONE - long curly brown hair in the house. 

"No, Detective Ellison, nothing of the sort. I'm...I'm sorry. I know this man is your partner, and we're doing all we can to try and find him," Vanessa said, the hopeless look in her jade-green eyes betraying the confidence she was trying to instill in Jim with her voice. 

"I see," Jim replied dryly before turning away from the small woman and focusing his senses once again on his partner's scent. Vanessa opened her mouth to speak, but decided it would be best to leave the big man alone. She watched him silently, casually following him around the interior of the house until he grunted impatiently and headed out the front door. He stopped abruptly when he got to the bottom of the front steps; Vanessa nearly rammed into his back, she was following him so closely, wondering what in the hell he thought he was going to find that neither she nor her 5 experienced co-workers had. 

"There," Ellison said simply, pointing to the ground beneath two of the parked squad cars and following a path down and out of the driveway with his right index finger, "They went that way," he said. 

"What?" Vanessa said incredulously, "Detective Ellison, there's nothing -" Jim cut her off just as unceremoniously as he'd done to Simon earlier, "Yes, there IS," he said forcefully, "There are tracks there, and these damned excuses for so-called 'professionals' are sitting on them. MOVE THOSE VEHICLES IMMEDIATELY!" Jim shouted, leaving Vanessa and the other half dozen or so workers staring at him with gaping jaws. All he had to do after shouting was give one look - the look that clearly said 'Don't Fuck With The Detective Of The Year' - and the cars were moved. 

Jim crouched in the gravel and ran his hands gently over the freezing cold rocks, feeling the indentations from the vehicle that had been parked there mere hours before. "It's a truck," he stated, ignoring all the incredulous and disbelieving looks aimed towards him, "It was a truck, and it left here and headed North," Ellison finished. No one spoke, just remained where they stood; he heard the murmurs begin again, and shoved them violently aside in his head. "What if he really is a Sentinel?" he caught as he stood up, then from inside the house, "Jesus, what the hell is he, some sort of tracking dog?" 

'No,' Jim thought as he wiped his hands off on his jean-clad thighs, 'I'm some kind of tracking cat. I'm a fucking Sentinel, and my Guide is missing, and if you all don't get off your donut-loving asses and help me, I'm going to kick all your fucking butts from here to Timbuktu'. "Alright, Ms. Rice," Jim began as he met the young woman's questioning gaze, "Here's how we're gonna' do this, capiche?" 

"Yes sir, Detective Ellison," the petite blonde replied, offering Jim a smile as she walked slowly towards him, as though approaching a wild animal, "What do you want us to do?" The young woman was most definitely not stupid; six years in college and two degrees proved that. She realized that the magnificent man before her was most likely exactly what Blair Sandburg had professed him not to be...she kept it to herself, as she imagined she would for years to come, instead focusing on Jim's abilities and reactions. 

Vanessa Rice figured it was only a matter of time before the Sentinel found his Guide, and she wanted to be there when it happened. She offered Jim Ellison nothing more than a slight smile and a nod as she stood next to him and listened to his theories, and within minutes, she was in the van with her associates following the blue and white truck. She didn't speak a word about the Sentinel that didn't exist tracking the equally mythical Guide, content merely to be a part of the experience of a day in the lives of the two amazing men. None of her colleagues noticed her smile as they followed the invisible trail, led by the legendary Detective Ellison of Cascade's Major Crimes Unit. Her smile faded as she reached out and turned up the heat a bit, then said a silent prayer that they would find Blair alive and not...she shook her head and blew on her chilled hands in lieu of contemplating the worst case scenario. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **ANOTHER UNDISCLOSED RURAL LOCATION**  
6:48 PM 

It had been nearly five hours since Detective Sandburg had been knocked out. Unbeknownst to the Guide, the tall dark stranger had injected him with liquid Percoset after cracking him on the head, and when Sandburg finally opened his eyes, everything was out of focus and swimming...except him. He was resting on his side, cold and wet mud beneath him, with his knees practically pulled up to his chest; it afforded him the most space in the crude circular hole he had - he guessed - been lowered into. In addition to the rest of his problems, Sandburg realized that he was clad only in his boxer shorts. And it was dark. And there was snow falling on him every few seconds. 

"Ohhhfffffuck," Blair slurred aloud to no one, his voice bouncing off the walls closely surrounding him. "Not cold and wet again, man. Shit," he voiced loudly, the echo haunting him and making him shiver even more. 'Can you shiver when you're unconscious?' Sandburg thought to himself, then shrugged the thought off when he realized that it was the shaking that had woken him in the first place. "Great, man, just great," he spat out. It was one of the only things that he would say before the panic set in. The real panic - which set in approximately four minutes later when his captor's face showed itself nearly thirty feet above...and the dream from the night before clarified in his memory. 

"Aaaahhh, Detective Sandburg, I see you're awake. Hungry?" The stranger asked from what seemed like miles away, "I can arrange for a meal or two for you, if you're so inclined." The only thing that Blair could really see were the bright white teeth that grinned down at him, and he shook that much harder at the evil grimace. "Oh, it's alright, Mr. Sandburg - or is that Detective Sandburg? All the same...if you're hungry, all you have to do is yell, sweetie, and I'll be here. Are you comfy cozy?" 

"F-f-f-fuck you," Blair hissed out from between chattering teeth at the figure looming too far away to come into contact with, "Where the hell are m-m-my clothes? Why don't you luh-let me go? What the hell do you need me for, anyway?" Sandburg inquired, ignoring his body's refusal to calm. He tried to call his memory from that same morning back - being in Jim's arms, the strong hot arms wrapped around him bodily, protecting him, keeping him safe from what were supposed to be dream demons. Those dream demons ended up being so much more - and Blair's attempt to warm himself the slightest bit failed as the chill permeated what felt like another inch towards his bones. 

"Oh Blair," the man replied sweetly, "I have such plans for you, darling. You and all that beautiful curly hair, and your compact little body, and...and...the knowledge that doing you in will only lead your fair Sentinel to follow," he finished. He ignored Blair's extended cry of "Noooooooo", instead pulling back from the six-foot-wide by thirty-five-foot-deep hole in the ground and revelling in the helpless man's cries. The stranger smiled as he piled several rotting boards back over the gaping wound in the dirt, and then covered them with dead leaves and fodder from the not-yet-completely-frozen yard. With the cold and dampness in the air, it would only be a matter of time before the self-proclaimed Guide was eradicated...and the real prize would undoubtedly show up in his place. 

Heading back into his house, the Cascade Monster sharpened his knives and other various tools as he dreamt of what he would do once Detective Sandburg was frozen in his trap. He could envision the young man succumbing to the cold, and see himself fishing the Detective out of the hole. Could imagine pulling the freshly dead Blair into his arms and carrying the sexy young man into his house. Laying his beautiful muscular body out on the island in the kitchen, erotic blue lips and frozen onyx eyes aiming up at the ceiling as his iced flesh was carved into, stiff curls melting teardrops onto the already-crimson-stained countertop. 

Jeremy Forer, aka 'The Cascade Monster', allowed himself a moment of silence as his knife clattered to the floor, momentarily losing himself in what he perceived to be the ultimate wet dream. He rubbed his swollen black denim-clad groin against the unforgiving pine that made up the cutting block, reaching up and releasing his own jet-black ponytail as he allowed himself a moment of pure joy. Tossing his hair around and stroking himself through his pants, he came unabashedly amidst thoughts of slicing into the young Detective's flesh, cutting out those parts that would ultimately bring his erstwhile and so-called non-existent Sentinel the most joy. 

Forer trailed his fingers across the disappointingly small spot of semen that he'd managed to leave dampening the front of his trousers, his thoughts focused solely on the young man that continued - for the time being, anyway - to cry out in frustration, anger, and fear in the backyard. It wouldn't be much longer now...not much longer at all, he thought to himself as he bent and picked up his knife to continue sharpening it. Soon, he would be able to give his all...every last bit of himself. He'd waited for so long, and he hardened once again in his pants as he imagined being able to spew as much as he felt. Hell, the kid was practically half-dead already, if the color of his skin was any indication, Jeremy thought to himself with a smile as he finished up his work. The only thing that was left to do now was...wait. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20TH**  
 **CASCADE FREEWAY, 35 MILES FROM BLAIR**  
8:04 PM 

Ellison had no choice but to pull over. He'd been going non-stop all day long, and the events of the past 15 hours had begun to take their toll. Granted, he had been meticulously following the tracks for just over 2 hours now, but added onto the hours that he'd spent intently combing the crime scene from earlier on, he was fairly exhausted. His senses were seriously fucking with him; the seemingly lit up tire tracks he'd been following for the last hour were fading in the steadily falling snow, and he found himself beating on the Ford's steering wheel, just trying to calm down enough to pick up the pursuit once more. He was so close he could almost smell it; he could practically imagine Blair's voice in his head, and he forced himself to focus, just for a little while longer. 

It was about that time that Vanessa hopped out of the Forensic team's van, which had pulled over behind Jim's truck, and made her way to the driver's side window of the Ford. She took one look at Ellison and frowned. His head was hanging so that his chin rested on his broad chest, and his hands fell from the steering wheel to land helplessly in his lap as she watched. This couldn't be the Detective of the Year she'd heard so much about. 

Gathering her resolve, Vanessa Rice - Forensic Team Leader - formed her right hand into a fist and banged it against the Ford's driver side window. When she got no reaction from the sole occupant of the truck, she repeated her motions twice - until Detective Jim Ellison - who wasn't really a Sentinel, right? - looked slowly up and to the left to meet her angry and insistent gaze. She nearly lost her resolve when she saw the tears glimmering in the Detective's eyes...but she simply knocked louder on the glass. The Ford was too old to have power ANYTHING, and she felt herself take a step back as Detective Ellison manually rolled his window down. He didn't say a word, merely waited exhaustedly for her to speak - which she did, several moments later. 

"Look," Vanessa began, "I know you aren't particularly fond of me. Most people aren't. In fact, the only reason that my team is still on your ass is because I refuse to give up. I know that Blair Sandburg is more than just your partner on the force, okay? I mean, pardon my French, but you'd have to be fucking stupid not to know that, Detective." Detective Rice gave the Sentinel a moment to respond, continuing when Jim merely nodded a bit at her and raised one hand to motion for her to go on. 

"Fine, Jim. Look," Vanessa said, empowered by Ellison's acquiescence, "We are going to find Sandburg, okay? And when we do, I'll be right there with you, throwing a little fucking victory party. But we have to get to that point first. So lead on, Detective...we are soooo behind you," she finished with a wink and a nod. The Sentinel gazed at the small woman for a moment before honoring her with a half-smile and a nod of his own. Jim rolled up the Ford's window and revved up the engine. He knew he was close, and thanks to Vanessa Rice, he was sure that it wouldn't be long before he once again held his Guide in his loving arms. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **ANOTHER UNDISCLOSED RURAL LOCATION**  
7:57 PM 

At about the same time that the Sentinel was getting his pep talk from the leader of the Forensics Team, the Guide was beginning to lose his sense of positive thinking. Having been in captivity for close to seven hours, Blair Sandburg was freezing cold...and getting progressively worse. The asshole that had taken him had dropped a hose about halfway down into the hole that Blair was trapped in, proceeding to turn it on only when Sandburg had finally stopped screaming for his Sentinel, thirty minutes or so previously. Blair's voice wasn't the only thing that betrayed him; he could no longer feel any extremity on his body, and he'd begun to cry hoarsely as he realized that exposure and frostbite would be setting in soon. The pain that he first experienced hours before from the cold alone had vanished, giving way to something even more frightening to the educated young man - total and complete numbness. 

The sorrowful hoarse sounds that emanated from the pit in the ground served only to encourage the beast that lurked around the still-camouflaged opening once or twice an hour. Jeremy Forer cared not one bit that the sobbing young man in his trap only served as an hors' d' oeuvre to the force that would surely follow; that of a Sentinel in search of his missing Guide. The Guide's kidnaper had no idea what fate would befall him when confronted with the primal imperative of a centuries-old protector in search of the one soul that served only to reign him in and watch over him - but he would. And soon. 

Despite his struggles in the ever-filling watery pit, it seemed Blair could hear his Sentinel speaking to him, and it lent him a peace he hadn't known or felt in hours, if not days. "I'm coming, Blair, just hang on," was all Sandburg heard before he collapsed exhaustedly to his knees in the well that was just large enough to contain his body if he lay down. He'd been trying to jog in place and keep moving around for the past couple hours in order to stay warm, but only managed to tire himself out. 

As the water filled out and edged its way up to his knees, the Guide felt nothing more than peace, certain that no matter what might happen, the Sentinel would find him...whether it be in this life or the next. "I love you, Jim," Blair murmured as the water continued to rise achingly slowly, joined by errant snowflakes that managed to find their way through the boards that loosely covered Blair's prison. "Love You, My Sentinel," he finished in a whisper, shivering and allowing himself the warm tears that now streamed down his cheeks - nearly turning to ice before they could reach his frozen lips - as he clutched his arms closer around his middle and waited desperately for Jim's arrival. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **CASCADE FREEWAY - ONE MILE FROM BLAIR**  
8:39 PM 

Ellison pulled off the highway once more, only this time it was to roll his window down and turn his hearing all the way up. Vanessa and her team fell back as well, pulling off several hundred yards behind the blue and white Ford they'd been following. She instructed her crew to remain completely silent, in essence allowing Jim the opportunity to thoroughly and unerringly track his missing Guide. She kept the secret she'd managed to figure out to herself, trying only to catch a glimpse of the Sentinel in action. They were too far back in the team's van, so she merely crossed her arms and nodded once, then waited for Jim to start up the truck once more and lead them to the lost young man. 

Jim closed his eyes and scented the frigid air that flooded the cab of the truck, listening intently for only one thing - the sound of his Guide's heartbeat. It took him several minutes to isolate all the other noises, but he managed to do it, and when he finally did catch wind of Blair's location, he panicked instantly. The beloved heartbeat was entirely too slow for his liking, and Ellison knew that something was seriously amiss. Rolling his window up most of the way and revving the truck to life, the Sentinel pealed out of the gravel alongside the freeway and fishtailed back onto the road. Quickly getting control of the wheel, he took the first available exit, not paying one bit of attention to whether or not he'd lost the Forensic team. All that mattered was Blair and how quickly Jim could get to the fading pulse that guided him. 

Vanessa urged her driver to keep up with the Detective as he practically flew from his erstwhile parking space along the freeway, and thanks to quick action the team was in hot pursuit. "Don't lose him," Vanessa stated excitedly, "We're getting close," she stated, and the young man behind the wheel obeyed. She wanted to be there when the Sentinel found his Guide; wanted to be able to catalog all the responses and emotions for her own memory, despite the fact that she'd never be able to make her findings public. It was enough in her own mind to watch the drama unfold with the knowledge that all that she'd seen on television the previous year was truly false. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 20th  
 **UNDISCLOSED RURAL LOCATION**  
8:47 PM 

There was only one homestead in the immediate area, and Ellison knew instantly that it was where his Guide was being held. The freeway exit led to nothing more than an unlit paved road now covered in unending white, no gas station or restaurant in sight. Nothing in sight, in fact, except a lone house that rested on what appeared to be many acres of undeveloped land. The Sentinel turned the Ford's headlights off and coasted up the road in the dark, stopping several hundred yards past the inconspicuous and white-covered driveway. He hopped out of the truck and began walking back to the house, relieved when Vanessa and the Forensic team parked the van several hundred feet before the driveway, having watched him and his actions carefully. It appeared that the Forensic team was the only backup that Jim had available, and though he was grateful, he was equally concerned that the bastard in the house might have backup of his own. 

Jim felt marginally better when he turned up his sight and saw that Vanessa was indeed packing her weapon, as was the rest of the team. He watched as they stole silently up the front walk and headed for the house's entrance, fanning out and using hand signals to communicate as they'd been taught in the Academy. Jim's heart burst with pride as he watched the operation, even as he opened his senses and turned his full attention towards Blair's exact location. It took several minutes, but Ellison finally had Sandburg's vitals locked in. The Sentinel stumbled through the backyard purposefully, snow falling full-force now, stopping only when he sensed the rotting wood several feet ahead; it didn't fit in with the rest of the scene, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his Guide lay beneath the carelessly laid trap. 

"Blair?" The Sentinel allowed himself to ask at regular vocal volume; he'd heard the Forensic team capturing Jeremy Forer moments earlier, and with no other heartbeats in the house, Ellison knew that all current threat had been eradicated. He no longer wanted anything to do with the asshole that had taken his partner; all he wanted was to find Blair. "Sandburg? I can smell you..." Jim trailed off with a whisper, worry increasing his own heartbeat even as he sensed his partner's slowing further by the second. Ellison tried to shut out the groans and retching he could hear coming from inside the house as the Detectives discovered furniture completely encased in dried human flesh, if their quiet conversations and cursing were any indication. 

"Sandburg!" Jim shouted, kicking aside the out of place rotting boards and snow-coated dead leaves and other debris to uncover the mouth of the well, "BLAIR!" The Sentinel could actually feel his corneas enlarge and expand as he filtered out the darkness to find his love. Blair was unconscious and on his knees, resting in water up to his chest, shivering with his arms wrapped around himself and seemingly beyond shock, hunched down at the bottom of the huge hole that his Blessed Protector had managed to unearth. 'Some Blessed Protector I am,' Jim thought to himself as he scrambled around the yard looking for and finding the spigot to at least turn off the water that slowly but steadily poured into the hole. That done, he immediately focused on finding some rope or wire or any means of getting Blair out of the ice-water laden intended tomb he currently rested in. 

It was at that moment that Vanessa strode proudly out of the house, beaming with delight that her crew had managed to apprehend the 'Cascade Monster'. Her smile faded instantly to a look of grief; Ellison was circling the yard as he struggled to find something to retrieve his Guide with, crying out Blair's name every so often just to ensure that the man was still with him, and he was not having much luck. She nearly tripped over the very rope that had been used to lower the young man into the hole, and she grabbed it up and ran to Ellison's side. 

"Here," Vanessa said as she strode toward the large Detective, "Tie it around my waist and lower me down," she offered, ignoring Jim's shaking head. "Come ON, Sentinel, you are way too big to go down there, and even if you did fit, I couldn't pull you back up without alerting my entire team as to what you're doing. Now let's go, soldier," Vanessa ordered. 

Ellison managed to control his own surprise at the small woman's words. He ignored her apparent understanding of just what he was long enough to shut his gaping jaw and tie the rope around her torso, tying the knot just tight enough that she could be lowered and undo it to tie it around his lover. "It's just like repelling," Vanessa said as she made her way down into the darkness of the pit, her own teeth beginning to chatter, "I did this in the Academy Jim, it's okay, really." 

Jim could only nod mutely in the darkness, holding tightly onto the rope that would serve as his Guide's lifeline in mere minutes. He shivered as he heard Vanessa's gasp when she hit the frigid water below, giving enough rope up to allow her to tie the line to Blair's bare midriff so that he could be hoisted up. She called to Ellison and yanked on the line once she'd secured the young man, and Jim pulled slowly but surely, his pulse racing with apprehension at the prospect of holding his lover in his arms within minutes. 

The Sentinel ignored his own wishes and turned his mind to business, pulling Sandburg up and into his arms, pausing only momentarily to celebrate finding his lost love. Blair was so frozen already that he maintained his kneeling position even as he was moved, and Jim allowed a strangled gasp to escape from between his lips, which were already numb from the cold wind and snow blowing around him. With a brief kiss to the unconscious and frozen man's temple, Jim laid the young man carefully to the ground at his feet and then quickly lowered the rope once more so that Vanessa could tie it back around her waist, allowing the strong Detective to lift her to safety. 

Vanessa Rice barely managed to find purchase on the ground at the top of the well before Ellison released the rope, nearly plunging her back into the depths of the prison she'd so recently escaped. She grunted once indignantly before catching her breath - and her footing - so that she could watch the scene before her finish unfolding. She instantly forgave Jim Ellison for any misgivings she might have had as she watched the burly Detective drop to his knees and pull his coat off, wrapping it around his Guide and kissing the icy curls that rested directly beneath his chiseled chin. Huge snowflakes blowing down from the sky coated all of them, and Vanessa found herself choked up as she listened in to the dialogue. "Chief," the Sentinel gasped quietly, "Oh God, Blair," Ellison said between kisses to his young partner's head, "I'm here sweetheart...I'm so sorry I'm late," Jim finished, oblivious to the fact that Vanessa was watching and hearing everything. He immediately concentrated all his attention back on the rigid form in his arms before gathering Blair back up and standing, heading directly for the warmth of the house. 

"You can't take him inside, Jim! It's too warm in there...it'll make the shock worse," Vanessa shouted at the big man's retreating back. She ran up to where he had stopped and said, "I'm, uh, going to make sure they called -" she cut her voice off as the sounds of sirens in the distance approached, "Okay, ummmm...thank you Ellison." She saw him no more than nod as she headed for the house so she could wave the paramedics in and towards where they were most desperately needed. 

Vanessa was pleased that the ambulance had made its way to the front of the house before she'd had a chance to get inside. The smell alone would have been able to drop ten men...hell, she'd lost two of her own to the porcelain gods as it was...and she had no desire to watch Jim Ellison fight off nausea at the same time that he was trying to save his unresponsive partner. She watched as the medics ran out the back door, ignoring the scenery that they passed, taking Blair Sandburg's still-huddled form from his bewildered Sentinel's arms and wrapping him up in thermal blankets. It wouldn't be possible to warm the Guide quickly without causing coma or death; both Ellison and Rice knew that. Jim stood stone-still, his too-empty arms dropped to his sides as he watched silently and grimly while Blair was strapped onto a gurney and wheeled back through the house and out the front door to the waiting vehicle. 

"C'mon Ellison," Vanessa said as she patted his arm, "Let's go. I'll drive your truck and we'll follow them...you're in no condition to drive, and this weather is sucking worse by the second." When she got no response from the big man, she patted him harder and repeated his name until he finally nodded once and allowed her to lead him to the front of the house. Her detectives would take care of the rest of the details, and Vanessa Rice would get to play voyeur...making sure that both men would survive the night. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21st   
**CASCADE GENERAL HOSPITAL**  
12:14 AM 

Blair had been transported to the local 'mom-and-pop' medical center before being airlifted back to Cascade General, thanks to an impatient and close to unintelligible call from Sentinel to CPD Captain. Hypothermic with an 80-degree body temperature and mild frostbite to his fingers, toes, ears, and nose, the Guide remained unconscious with a dangerously low pulse & temperature the entire time he was being moved. Jim Ellison allowed Vanessa Rice to drive his Ford back to Cascade, arriving at the hospital roughly an hour and a half after the chopper had taken off with his partner. 

The seasoned Detective had nearly zoned three times on the way back to Cascade, so lost was he in thoughts of his Guide, partner, and lover. The only thing Ellison found that he could concentrate on was watching the snow, and he kept finding himself mesmerized by it. Were it not for Vanessa blaring the radio with Christmas tunes (and singing loudly and quite purposely off-key) every time she caught Jim staring out the window for too long, he would have been incapacitated long before they reached the city. She breathed a huge sigh of relief - which it seemed she'd been holding since leaving Forer's home - when the neon sign announcing Cascade General and the blue sign signalling the exit finally came simultaneously into view. 

"We're here," Vanessa announced as she unbuckled her seatbelt and looked slowly to her right. She drank in every nuance of Jim's appearance at that moment - the haggard face with unshaven five o'clock shadow. The tired and drooping azure eyes sunken into pale skin, and the lines of exhaustion and self-inflicted grief that appeared to burrow into the large man's forehead and lips. "Come on, Jim. Blair's here and he needs you. Let's go, okay?" She asked tentatively, only mildly pleased when Ellison nodded once - as had been his standard response since finding Blair - and silently unbuckled his own seatbelt. She pulled her coat closed around her front after hopping down and out of the Ford, racing around to Jim's side to open the door. He had managed to let himself out of the truck, and she grabbed his elbow to steady the both of them as they made their way through the heavily falling snow and freezing wind and through the automatically opening front doors of Cascade General. 

"Hey," said a forty-something security guard seated behind the Information Desk, "Visiting Hours are from - " Vanessa managed a glare that would have stopped Hitler in his tracks that silenced the guard as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her Detective's badge. "We're here for Blair Sandburg...this is his partner, James Ellison, and Captain-" her words were cut off by the sound of Jim's name coming from behind where the two weary and snow-covered Detectives stood. 

"Banks, Ms. Rice, Simon Banks, nice to meet you - and thank you for bringing my Detective in," the large dark-skinned man managed around a mouthful of unlit cigar, his large hand held out in greeting. Vanessa shook the Captain's hand and glanced worriedly up at Ellison, only to have her fears put to rest...for the moment, anyway. 

"He'll be fine, Ms. Rice," Simon said, "He's just-" Vanessa cut the Captain off in mid-explanation. 

"He's sensing Blair, isn't he?" She asked, and Simon's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. "It's okay, Captain Banks," Vanessa said quickly, "I saw that press conference last year. This evening, I've been privileged to play the observer myself," she finished shyly, looking to the tiled floor for comfort. "I know, sir...but I swear I won't tell a soul, honest," she finished, once again meeting Banks' dark chocolate gaze while she held up two fingers in a mock 'Scout's Honor' pose. 

Simon merely smiled at the small woman - before concernedly sparing a glance at the still-motionless Sentinel at her side - and replied, "They're special, Detective Rice. That's all I can say." 

"You don't need to say any more, sir," Vanessa replied as she tugged on Jim's coat sleeve and urged him towards the elevator that Simon was walking briskly towards, "I totally understand. Will he be..." her voice trailed off as the elevator doors slid open and Simon motioned her inside, Ellison still lightly in tow. 

"Just watch, Ms. Rice," Simon said as he grinned around his stogie, "Just wait and watch. It's like magic." Content that Captain Banks had been informed favorably regarding Blair's condition, Vanessa released the arm of Jim's shirt and wrapped her arms around her middle as they rode towards Sandburg's floor. Jim Ellison didn't so much as flinch, even when the elevator dinged that they'd reached their destination. He simply exited the metal car and walked, unerringly, down the hall to Blair's room. 

"I told you," Simon said once more with a quiet chuckle, "It's like magic." All Vanessa could do was nod as she followed the Captain to the Waiting Area in the opposite direction that the Sentinel had gone, believing - for the first time in her life - in miracles. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21st   
**CASCADE GENERAL HOSPITAL**  
12:33 AM 

"Ahhh, we've been expecting you Detective," the familiar nurse tending to Blair said with a slight smile as Jim entered his partner's room. "This is quite a fix he's ended up in tonight," she continued, her smile fading as she took in the Sentinel's grim and over-exhausted features. 

"How is he?" Jim grunted at her as he pulled the cheap orange plastic chair from the wall across the room to rest at Blair's bedside. As he had so many times previously, Ellison sat and clutched one of Sandburg's still-lifeless and heavily bandaged hands in his own large paw, seated as close to the edge of the hospital bed as he could get without climbing on top of his Guide. 

"Careful with his hands, Mr. Ellison," the nurse cautioned, making Jim jump a bit until she rested a hand gently on his shoulder, "The frostbite was minor, but he shouldn't be jostled around. While you were en-route, we had to soak him bodily in warm water to bring his temperature up a bit so we could wrap him in electric blankets," she explained. Her heart nearly broke when she saw the look on Jim's face as he gazed down at his partner. Clearing her throat, she quickly continued, "He's nearly back up to normal now, but the exhaustion and shock and exposure have taken their toll. He's very tired, and may not regain consciousness until sometime tomorrow. I'm sure that you being here will be a great relief," she finished, patting the large man once more on the shoulder before leaving him alone with his charge. 

"Chief," Ellison said softly, stroking Blair's errant and long-since thawed curls with the hand not now-loosely grasping his lover's, "I'm here, babe. I'm not leaving you, not ever again, okay?" The burly Sentinel was not surprised when there was no response; he rested his elbows on the edge of the hospital bed and buried his tired face in his hands. Still holding Blair's hand gingerly in his grasp, Jim allowed himself the tears he'd been holding back for hours, sobbing quietly until his heaving chest hurt and he had nothing more to give, physically or emotionally. Exhausted on all counts, the Sentinel slumped over the edge of his Guide's bed and drifted off, memories of that morning's comfort just out of his tired grasp as the Cascade Monster invaded all attempts at rest. 

Meanwhile, out in the Waiting Area, Simon Banks placed his still-unlit stogie back in its case and motioned for Vanessa to rest her head on his shoulder. With very little hesitation she acquiesced, realizing that the long night was about to get one hell of a lot longer. Simon patted the top of her head and smiled a bit as the young woman rested. Miracles did take their time, after all, Banks thought to himself as he allowed his cheek to rest lightly atop her head before drifting off. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21st   
**CASCADE GENERAL HOSPITAL**  
9:53 AM 

Jim woke blearily, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus on the light coming into the room from an angle other than that of a skylight over his bed...no, their bed, he reprimanded himself immediately...before remembering where he was and why. Instead of being spooned up next to his lover, as he so adored, Ellison found himself scrabbling for the lost-in-the-middle-of-the-night digits of his life partner. Finally locating and gently bringing said heavily-wrapped digits to his lips for a gentle kiss, the Sentinel of the Great City released his Guide's still-bandaged hand and rolled his head around, wincing at the creaking bone sounds. 

Stiff from sleeping at Blair's bedside all night, Jim stood and stretched fully before allowing himself the luxury of drinking in his Guide's vital signs. After seating himself once more next to his still-slumbering partner, Jim focused all his senses on Blair Sandburg. Opening up hearing and scent and touch, Ellison gently grazed Sandburg's forehead with nimble fingertips, carefully avoiding the bandages that adorned his lover's tortured features. Drinking in as much as he could with such limited contact, Jim closed his eyes and focused his entire being on his lover. 

Sentinel read Guide as had been done for centuries before them; Jim mapped all of Blair's reactions and lack thereof within seconds. Heartbeat, blood pressure, body temperature, tactile response - each sign appeared as judge and jury to the concerned Blessed Protector. Despite the caring inventory and positive feedback, Sandburg remained motionless, much to Jim's dismay. 

Once again resting his hulking figure in the less-than-adequate orange plastic chair next to his lover's bed, Ellison found himself yet again at the end of his proverbial rope. Blair had been unconscious for hours now, and Jim was impatient. He needed to see Blair's ice-blue eyes opening to gaze up at his own. Needed to hear the ever faithful and grounding Guide voice. Needed to feel Blair's pulse racing beneath his own. Needed to smell Blairscent coating his own. Needed to taste his Guide's warm lips and tongue and know that the younger man was truly alive and well. 

"Sandburg," Jim leaned forward and whispered into the prone young man's left ear, nuzzling auburn curls as he spoke, "Sandburg, I'm here, babe. Just wanted you to know that I'm here and I love you," Jim finished with a lilt in his tone and a lump in his throat larger than the entire state of Washington. "Please...you have to be okay," Jim begged as tears welled, "I'm so fucking sorry, Blair," Ellison continued...so lost in his own grief that he neglected to notice the increase in pulse and blood pressure that signalled Sandburg's waking. "I know I swore to always protect you after the Golden, and after Alex," Jim continued, his voice breaking as he attempted to finish. "And the last time after Zoeller-" Ellison's vocal chords betrayed him and he dropped his head once more to his Guide's bedside, unaware that the young man had heard his last few murmurs. 

"Juh," Blair managed to rasp out, eyes still closed, waking slowly in the light of his hospital room. He could hear and feel the vibrations of quiet sobbing coming from his left side and despite his injuries, Sandburg was thrilled that the Cascade Monster had not managed to kill him or maim him - from what he could tell, anyway. Alas, he still did not have the strength to alert his intensely preoccupied Sentinel to the fact that he was indeed awake and well. So the Guide rested himself while he listened to his Blessed Protector pour his heart out vocally - something that neither man would ever have expected. 

"Blair," Jim whispered, his normally gruff voice curtained with concern and the guilt that had been plaguing him since leaving Blair in the station earlier that day, "I'll never leave you alone again, I swear to you," Ellison murmured quietly. Tears soaked his over-tired eyes as he spoke softly to his lover, "I know I've said it before...and I've let things come between us...but I won't, not ever a-fucking-gain, Blair," the Sentinel assured his lover, "Please, baby, just please wake up and let me know that you're alright." 

No sound or motion was forthcoming, and Jim found himself burying his face once again in his own folded strong arms that bordered his smaller counterpart's bedside. It wasn't until Blair managed to gather up his resolve - and his remaining arsenal of strength - to speak the Sentinel's name aloud and pull Jim from his own self-inflicted prison of guilt. "Jim," Blair gasped, then waited for several minutes so the sound of his voice could sink into Ellison's self-depricating head. As Sandburg had expected, it took a small amount of time, but eventually the larger man's head snapped to attention at Blair's bedside, wide-open cobalt eyes searching his partner's for reciprocation. 

Long brunette eyelashes fluttered and shut, fluttered and shut, then fluttered once more before opening to reveal the aquamarine prize that Ellison had so longed to see. "Chief," Ellison whispered softly with a quivering grin, "Blair," the Sentinel whimpered happily. 

"Yeah, I'm here man," Blair replied breathily, reaching out to his Blessed Protector with bandaged hands - only to find them both gently clutched, kissed gingerly once, then laid carefully back at his sides. 

"Don't move too much baby, the doctors and nurses said you're still fragile because of the frostb..." Jim lost his voice and allowed his eyes to disengage from his Guide's, suddenly finding the white cotton sheets beneath his hands interesting beyond belief. 

"Jim," Blair murmured softly; his beautiful lips now tortured - parched and chapped from the cold he'd been subjected to. "Luh...look at me, Jim," the young man urged softly, smiling a bit when the Sentinel finally met his gaze once more. "This," Sandburg whispered, motioning up and down his sheet-clad figure with his bandaged hands before looking once more into his Blessed Protector's eyes and continuing, "Is what happens when you leave the Guide behind, man." 

Blair's weak but still-glowing gaze seemed to take on a life of its own as he watched his Sentinel squirm in the cheap orange plastic chair. Ellison finally stood up and stalked away from his lover's bedside, pausing to look blindly out the window as he blinked back fresh tears. Swallowing his pride and the lump in his throat that could compete with the size of his love for Blair, Jim choked out, "I'm sorry. I'm...I'm sorry that I didn't trust you. Even after everything we've been through together, I still - but I was only trying to protect you!" Ellison exclaimed as he wheeled back around to find Blair wincing at his tone. 

"Goddammit Chief," Jim said as he once again approached his lover's bedside, this time refusing to take the seat closer to his partner, "I can't apologize to you...I just don't have any more excuses. I love you, and I don't want you to get hurt...EVER!" The Sentinel's tone turned to one of frustration, and the big man clenched his teeth and his fists, looking angrily around the room for something to strike out against. 

"Jim," Blair whispered before breaking out into a series of rasping coughs that had the Sentinel instantly on his ass in the orange chair next to his lover's bed, all thoughts of frustration and anger instantly dissipated. 

"Ssssh, Sandburg, it's okay...I...it's okay, really, I swear, don't stress, sweetheart. Just rest, okay?" Ellison implored as he once more took a hand swathed in bandages between his own healthy ones and brought it to his lips gingerly, kissing the knuckles before placing the extremity back at his partner's side. Blair closed his eyes slowly with relief and let the corners of his mouth stray upward as Jim placed a hand over his face, using his super sensitive fingertips to brush a few strands of errant curls away from his beloved's forehead. 

Minutes later, once Blair's heartbeat had found its resting rhythm, Jim allowed himself a deep sigh before dropping his chin to his chest. A soft tap at the door caught his attention, and Jim was out of his chair and standing in the hall in front of Simon Banks in a matter of seconds, eager to keep his other half resting comfortably. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

"How's the kid, Jim?" Simon asked, stifling a smirk at Ellison's shocked expression when Vanessa Rice sidled out of the ladies room, up the hall, and stopped at Banks' side. 

"Um, he's going to be fine, sir, just fine. Vanessa, you're still here," Jim said with a hint of a smile, "I wanted to thank you again for all of your help last night. I don't think I would've been able to find Blair without your help...I...I'm not sure how you knew about my Zones and everything - " Ellison was having significant trouble expressing his gratitude, and the Forensics Detective took pity on him. 

"Detective Ellison, it was a pleasure working with you, and I am thrilled that I could assist you in finding your partner," the petite blonde said whole-heartedly with nothing less than a blinding smile of her own. "Captain Banks, I do believe you promised me breakfast, did you not?" Rice asked the large man to her left, and Simon appeared to blush as he nodded, quickly trying to save face as he cleared his throat. 

"Yes, well, now that we're sure Sandburg will be alright, I suppose it's okay for us to go on home...I mean, go to breakfast," Simon amended before shaking his head furiously. He took Vanessa's hand in his own and led her up the hall towards the elevators with nothing more than a wink to Jim, who smiled and shook his own head slowly back and forth as he turned and entered his lover's room once more. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21st  
 **CASCADE GENERAL HOSPITAL**  
2:36 P.M. 

"Unnnhhh," emitted from the hospital bed, and instantly Jim was at Blair's side. Ellison had been standing at the window for the past couple of hours watching the blizzard outside as it coated all the trees and cars in the hospital's parking lot with inches upon inches of snow and ice. All he could do was think to himself, over and over, how thankful he was that he'd found Blair before...he shook off that final thought as he sat once again in the hated chair next to Sandburg's bed, taking his lover's hand gently in his own. 

"Chief? It's me, Blair. I'm here, you're in the hospital, and you're going to be just fine, the doctors promised. It's the only thing I wanted for Christmas, and they told me they're playing Santa this year," Jim continued snidely, pleased when a tiny grin met his comments. 

"But I'm Jewish, Jim," Blair murmured as he opened his eyes to look up at the man he loved more than life itself. 

"Well, that's the downside, Darwin. They can't fix that...I already asked them," Jim replied mock-seriously, chuckling aloud when his younger partner stuck out his tongue in retort. 

"How...how did you ever find me, Jim?" Blair asked softly, exhaustion and relief playing havoc with his emotions and making his eyes fill with tears. "I was so sure that you'd never be able to track me all the way out there; so certain that I'd die down there in that hole, cold and wet and...just like last time." Sandburg's voice trailed off and he turned his head away from his Sentinel to hide his shame. "And it would've been all my fault because I didn't wait for backup," the young man finished as he stared at the wall with salty drops falling down his nose and one cheek to soak into his pillow. "I was so angry, Jim, so mad that you wouldn't let me go with you...I had no right...and look what happened," Blair finished with a sob that Jim felt in the core of his very soul. 

"Blair, don't," the Sentinel said as he reached over and placed two fingers under the young man's chin and gently forced the beautiful face back to meet his concerned gaze, "I'm your Sentinel, Chief. Of course I'd find you, no matter where you were. I can't believe that you went off on your own...but I'd never be angry with you for trying to solve a case. Never, Blair. Especially when I'm so well-known for going against protocol myself," Jim finished with a smug grin. 

"Now, once you're well, yeah, I am going to kick your ass...but you know I'll only do it out of love and a screaming case of Blessed Protector Syndrome, as you call it. And the make-up sex is so much better, Chief," Ellison waggled his eyebrows at his prone lover and delighted in the smile that met his joke. Jim reached down and swiped away the glistening drops that still stained Blair's cheeks, before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the young man's eager lips. 

"Sleep, baby. I know you need your rest, and I want you out of here in time for Christmas morning, okay? And in spite of all of this, I'm still willing to overlook the fact that you don't celebrate the damned holiday." 

"Anything for you, Jim," Blair replied sleepily, "Anything...so long as we do it together." 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**852 PROSPECT**  
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 24th   
5:45 P.M. 

"I can't believe you got me sprung early, man!" Blair exclaimed happily as he stood beside his Sentinel at the entrance to the loft, eager to get inside and onto the couch ASAP once Jim unlocked the door. The younger man wasn't quite back to his usual bouncing self, but Ellison was certain that it wouldn't be long before he had his Guide and partner and lover and other half back 150%. The bandages had all been removed, and Blair Sandburg was on his way back to yet another full recovery - and wouldn't be in need of Cascade General's services for some time to come if Ellison had anything to say about it. 

"Well, believe it," Jim growled impatiently as he struggled to hold onto his Guide's elbow with one hand and unlock the door with clumsy, excited fingers. Finally, the key slid into place and Ellison swung the door open, ushering his young charge through the doorway and into the loft - where the young man immediately froze in his tracks. 

"Oh. Oh Jim. Wow," was the last thing to leave Sandburg's lips as the young man walked into the living room, shaking his head in disbelief at the tableau before him. Jim stood back and watched with a cat-that-just-swallowed-the-canary look on his features as Blair looked around the loft in awe. 

With help from Megan, Simon, and Vanessa, Jim had been able to transform the loft into a veritable 'Winter Wonderland', with twinkling soft white lights illuminating the outline of every room, including winding up the stairs to the bedroom the two men shared. A fully-bedecked Christmas tree stood along the wall next to the sliding glass doors leading out to the balcony, which were similarly outlined in tiny white glowing specks. Carefully wrapped treasures rested beneath - most addressed to Blair from Santa - but it would be Christmas morning before Sandburg even noticed that detail. 

"Jim," Blair whispered in disbelief, shuffling to the much-dreamed-about sofa to plop down in front of a roaring fire (safely set half an hour previously by Simon and Vanessa), still glancing up at the decorations. "Jim, I thought...I thought you hated Christmas, man," the Guide muttered as he smiled widely and allowed himself to rest back against the support of the couch, finally letting his eyes close and his head to drop back in happiness, relieved beyond words to be home. 

"Yeah, well," Jim replied gruffly as he took off his coat and hung it on one of the pegs by the front door, "Contrary to popular belief, you can teach an old dog new tricks, Sandburg." Ellison watched as his Guide broke into a wide but tired grin of his own at the sentiment. 

"Come on, Chief," Jim said as he approached the sofa and reached out a hand towards his exhausted partner in everything, "Beddy-bye time. You have to get to bed before Santa comes, you know, or he won't bring you anything." 

"He already has, Jim. Years ago, man. He gave me you," Blair replied as his eyes fluttered tiredly open, tears of happiness brimming at the edges of ice-blue orbs that Ellison never tired of gazing into. With that, Sandburg reached out and took the hand that was offered, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and into the arms of everything that his life had become some ten-plus years previous. He allowed a deep sigh of contentment as James Joseph Ellison, Sentinel of their Great City, wrapped his huge arms around him bodily and urged Blair towards and up the stairs to the big bed that awaited. 

Tucking the younger man in, Jim smiled as Blair barely managed to gurgle out a 'love you, man,' before rolling over and burrowing into his welcoming pillows. Ellison headed back downstairs to sit contendedly in front of the now-roaring fire, listening to the most precious soundtrack of his life - his Guide's heartbeat above him. Jim let his own tears of relief fall, and sometime later, as the fire popped and faded to nothing more than a few glowing embers, some clock somewhere struck twelve. It was Christmas, and all that he'd ever wished for was right where it belonged, well and truly above him. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

The End. 

* * *

End Wishing Well by Jvantheterrible: duranjaxter@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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